


Bloodbath

by theElsker



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Gore, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theElsker/pseuds/theElsker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing quite like a bloodbath to set the mood. [FalloutKinkMeme]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodbath

They have killed this morning.

The sun has barely began to peak over the horizon, and the sky is still grey and hazy. On a stretch of barren land in the east of the Mojave, bodies lay piled high. Dozens of them have been haphazardly discarded on the wet, blood slicked ground. A majority of the corpses are NCR soldiers, some young and some old, with a few unfortunate Legionnaires who did not survive the bloodbath.

The stench is overwhelming. It would have other men, lesser men, choking. But Vulpes only smells sweetness and the thick scent of victory. It has been a successful campaign. His companion has begun to walk aimlessly through the bodies. She is covered, like him, in blood that is not their own. It has dried in clumps in her light brown hair, and in flecks across her cheeks and chin, before trailing down her neck and onto the leathers that wrap around her chest.

“Beatrix,” He says softly. “Gather everything that can be salvaged.”

She bends down and starts to pick through the pockets of a corpse, slashing randomly with her knife. He observes in amusement as she digs the tip of the knife into an appendage, slicing through skin and bone. She lifts the dripping arm with a look of fascination, twisting it around and around.

Vulpes turns to glance around him. It will be perhaps half a week before the NCR arrives, and another handful of days before the bodies will be moved back to their camps. Until then, they will lay and rot underneath the burning sun.

It is scant minutes before his eye catches the almost imperceptible rise and fall of a soldier’s chest. The man is half buried underneath other bodies, and the front of his uniform is torn and bloodied. A shudder passes through the soldier when Vuples moves to stand over him. The man’s eyes are glassy, but they still register with fear when Vulpes pulls his knife from its sheath at his side. Much as it had during the battle, a small fissure of excitement passes through him at the prospect of killing a degenerate.

He kneels and grasps the man’s chin, thrusting it up and exposing his neck. For a brief moment, Vuples considers using the dull edge of his blade, rather than the sharpened one, to hack at the skin and watch as the man slowly bleeds out. It is what his companion would do to prolong the pain and suffering. However he eventually decides on a more meticulous execution. With clinical precision, Vulpes runs his knife from the man’s pulse under his ear and all the way across to the other side.

Blood spews forth from the cut, spraying across Vulpes’ face and neck. He lifts a thumb to his cheek and pulls it back, staring impassively. It is warm and, like everything else, it smells sharply like iron. He brings his finger to his mouth and licks it clean.

He looks up for a brief moment, catching Beatrix’ stare. She has paused in her search, her eyes on his mouth and the way his tongue flicks around his thumb.

Something dark enters her gaze, and he is already beginning to grow hard underneath his armor.

Beatrix stands, tossing the limb carelessly behind her as she saunters towards him, hardly glancing down at the bodies she steps over.

She stops in front of him and sways forward, her tongue darting out to lick his chin. Her fingers begin to pluck at his amour, pulling at the leather straps until they go slack. He lets her pull the pieces off of him, dropping them at their feet.

When he stands bare before her, she falls to her knees.

She considers him appraisingly, her tongue running along her lower lip. With a smile that makes his jaw clench in anticipation, she grips the hilt of her knife and pulls it from its place at her side. Faster than he can blink, she reaches over and shoves her knife into the chest of the soldier whose throat he has just slit. The blade rips the body open, cutting through fabric and skin, and she tosses her knife to the ground before plunging her hand into the wound. When she pulls it out, it is coated in the dark liquid.

She raises her hand to his cock and begins to lather it in blood. It is mere seconds before he becomes slick underneath her fingers, and she moves her palm leisurely, with languid shallow pumps.

He allows it for a few moments, and the agonizing slowness makes his stomach tighten.

His hand grabs her by the hair and pulls her forward, so her mouth is only inches away and her hot breath ghosting over him. Her tongue flits out and touches the tip of him teasingly. After a second, she presses opened mouthed kisses to the underside of him, her tongue thrusting along the thick vein she finds there. He grunts in approval and tugs at her hair again, pressing her onward. She acquiesces with a stifled moan, edging her mouth around him.

And then her lips are wrapped around him completely and his hips are bucking forward viciously.

He pulls back at the last second, slipping from her lips and letting himself explode across her mouth and chest. The sight of blood and semen on her makes him growl. Her tongue swipes forward, swallowing what she can. A bit of saliva still connects her lip to his cock and the sight is almost enough to make him hard again.

He tightens his hold on her hair and drags her down, so that she lies half on the ground, half on the stomach of a carcass. He runs a hand the front of her leathers, pulling it off of her.

Its removal reveals an injury sustained from the battle, a long, jagged cut from the underside of her breast to her pelvic bone. He examines it for a moment, lightly running his fingers over the wound, before bending forward and tracing the ripped flesh with his tongue, lapping at the blood that trickles forth. She sighs in delight, her hands grasping at anything she can reach— Vulpes’ back, the ground, the ankle of a dead soldier.

He wants to lick every inch of blood off of her. He wants her twisting and whimpering underneath him. One of his hands moves down to between her legs. He palms her for a moment and he can smell her through the blood. But she surprises him, knocking his hand from her. Then with a smile, she slides from underneath him and darts over the piles of bodies that lie next to them.

Vulpes does not even hesitate, stepping through the carnage after her.

Something flies by his head and he turns to stare at the helmet that lands behind him. He ducks when a dog tag comes next, glinting in the morning sun. He watches her with a raised eyebrow as she picks up a machete, and eyes him mischievously. The small scar on his shoulder aches for a brief moment, reminding him of the last time he was too slow and a blade nicked him lightly. It is another moment before she flings it at him, so close that he must inch to the left to keep from being hit.

She has not learned her lesson, it seems.

It is only a few moments before she slips, falling backwards onto a group of corpses that lay in a pool of red. She turns her head and looks up at him, her jaw thrust out in a challenge and a smile playing upon her pretty lips.

Bending down, he grabs her knees and flings them apart. He thrusts violently into her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. There will be marks on her skin in a few hours and he savors the thought. An elbow of a dead soldier is pushing into her side, but they pay it no mind.

He is more interested in tasting the blood on her breasts.

His mouth settles there, biting the curve of her breast and sucking it clean. He pulls out for a long moment, watching her struggle for breath. Blood has splattered all over her, over them both. She runs her tongue across his lips teasingly before rolling her hips into his. He wants to dig his nails deep into her skin until her blood mixes with that of the carcasses they’re fucking on. But his fingers keep slipping, so he settles on grabbing handfuls of her ass.

It is not long before she’s trembling and he drives himself forward, their hips bruising against one another. And then they fall over the edge together, and she’s gasping his name like so many times before.

It is just the two of them. Even the Legion gives them a wide berth, even if the orders still come from Caesar.

When it is over and they lay side by side in the mess of blood and dirt, Beatrix presses a kiss to his mouth, her teeth grabbing at his bottom lip and sucking sweetly. Vulpes lifts a hand to cup her jaw and pulls her close against his chest. They lay there until the sun is high above them and the blood has begun to dry on their skin.


End file.
